Of birds and cages
by Yuna McHill
Summary: After having left behind his life as Winter Soldier, Bucky tries to live a normal life with Steve. But can he? Memories start to resurface and haunt him, both day and night. Can the Cap save his friend from himself or will he have to helplessly watch how his bird stops singing in the end? Chapter 2 halfway done.


**Of birds and cages**

Hello there, my wonderful readers! I've got a surprise story for you! *fireworks and crackers explode*

The reason is, I didn't want to make you wait too long for my other multi-chapter stories, which I've placed a bit on hiatus due to this intense last months preparing for the final tests of my semester and making hand-made presents for the family for Christmas. But now I've finished everything and I thought as a reward it would be nice to upload a 'light' story as a kind of late Christmas gift for you all, right? I'm so glad to finally get back on track with writing without having guilt-trips...

This story will contain mentions of psychological issues and maybe/possibly mentions of self-harm in later chapters, even if I already know this will have a happy ending. So remember, if anyone is being triggered by this, I apologize deeply. There's no shame in getting support like Bucky will soon discover, when dealing with stuff like this.

And before I forget to mention this, all the characters are owned by MARVEL.

Now enough of talking and on with the first chapter!

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Chapter 1: The dream

 _"Sergeant Barnes..."_

Confusion.

Pain.

Then darkness.

 _"You are to be the new fist of HYDRA..."_

Again pain. Enough to drive you mad.

Strength, never known before.

Then cold. All-engulfing cold.

"Wipe him and start over."

 _Bucky was sitting in a lab chair, inside the bunker where all of his missions started and ended. Several members of Hydra were standing around him, soldiers and scientists, watching on as the scene developed before them. He already regretted asking about the man on the bridge. He knew exactly what was going to happen to him now... Suddenly, metal restraints shot out of the chair, pressing his bare skin into the rough leather. A machine whirred to life, electricity buzzing as big panels approached him, locking around his head, trapping it effectively like a bird in a cage. Then a man approached him with a mouth guard and Bucky opened his lips wide to bite on it. He would need it if he didn't want to lose his tongue too..._

 _The young soldier was terrified, his scarred chest heaved heavily, he almost felt dizzy with fear, his heart thundered like a crazed horse on a race track. A strong surge of current set his brain on fire and a man screamed. It took Bucky some time to realize that it was him screaming, sobbing, begging for this torture to stop. Tears streamed down his cheeks and he released his heartbreaking song over and over again, until whoever was up there had enough mercy on him to cast the dark veil of unconsciousness over his eyes._

Bucky awoke with a cry. His body shot up, clutching the already sweat-soaked sheets like a life-line. He was gasping for air, like a drowning person. Silently he thanked the night for her darkness while his large grey eyes began to fill with tears. Cap's best friend pressed his biological hand over his mouth to stifle the strangled sob that threatened to leave him. Dr Wilson had told him it was a perfectly natural reaction to the huge amount of emotional stress HYDRA had put him through. He sobbed bitterly for minutes straight, his tormented soul still in the cold grip of his nightmare. After his vision cleared again, he glanced at the watch beside him. 3 o'clock in the morning. Going back to sleep would be useless... Carefully as not to wake his friend still sleeping in the house, he silently slipped out of bed into the livingroom.

He had brought a little book with him on his way, which he put on his lap after getting as comfortable as he could on the wndow sill. Sam had told him that writing down his nightmares would help dealing with his situation. With a sigh, he opened its pages. There were at least thirty similar entries that had been scribbled across them. Once he'd had a dream - or was it a memory? - that he had run amok in a village, one of his first HYDRA missions, and killed each end every innocent in his wake. The last thing he remembered before leaving was a tiny infant lying on the muddy street, staring at him with lost pure eyes. His mother had been beside him, her neck snapped by his powerful metal arm. He had once afterwards suffered an honest-to-God sobbing breakdown, when he had witnessed a kid in a neighbourhood playing with marbles that had looked oh so much like his tiny victim's dead eyes!

He had begged his friends to spend some days in the local psychiatry after they had shot him worried looks for weeks. Bucky had lasted one night, then they had to pick him up again, pale as death and nearly catatonic with fright, barely able to express what had caused it. But he knew, he would never be able to forget that night in the institiution, lying there on a cold unfamiliar bed with the awful stench of medicine in his nostrils and his imagination running wild with the pictures of broken patients wandering the hallways, moaning and sighing like lost ghosts, or the crazy ones scratching on his door to enter by force, cackling madly. It had scared the living lights out of his. He had barely slept, longing for his friends' help, but he had never admitted that, soldier that he was...

Bucky didn't even try to stop the tears from falling. Every time that he remembered or associated a situation or thing with his time as "Winter Soldier", he always felt like a tiger 'trapped in a time travelling cage' as he had put it. The young man brought up a shaking hand to wipe his sweaty hear from his forehead and began to write down his last dream as good as he was able to. _Done_. In more ways than one... Although he felt as if a full-blown hurricane was raging in his chest, he felt sleep tugging at him. The former Winter Soldier closed his wet eyes and let himself sink against the window frame. Slowly, he allowed a fitful slumber to claim him.

 **TO BE CONTINUED...**

**So that's the situation poor Bucky is in. I've started this story as an assignment for psychology class. They only required a short story, but as I love this tormented cutie, I've always wanted to expand this. But good news, this is not my priority. I've covered half of Chapter 6 of 'An unexpected touch of love' already and for the ones who read it, I'll get 'IT- The curse of Cairnholm Island' rolling again soon.**

 **I hope you had a very nice Christmas. As always, comments make my day and fire up my writing spirit, so you're welcome to leave anything you like.**

 **Your Yuna**


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